


One Fine Morning

by Nununununu



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attraction, Family, Fix-It, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: When the Mandalorian turns up at the temple, Luke is honestly not prepared for it.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 19
Kudos: 471
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	One Fine Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickSilverFox3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/gifts).



> AU in that Luke can't sense Din through the Force
> 
> (Originally posted 14/02; redated for author reveals)

When the Mandalorian turns up at the temple, Luke is honestly not prepared for it. He’s in the middle of leading a meditation session when Grogu’s long ears perk up, dark eyes opening as the child coos, his excitement rippling out through the Force.

“Grogu,” Luke murmurs, not a chastisement but simply a question not phrased as such. The other apprentices are already stirring, sensing the disturbance – no, not a _disturbance_ , nothing so joyful can truly be called that or at least so Luke has come to think, no matter what the opinion might have been of Jedi of old.

Anyway, it’s not a disturbance, but it _is_ a trill of pleasure and anticipation, and –

And oh, there’s an unfamiliar ship coming in to land, sleek and shining silver in the morning suns as it cuts through the atmosphere, undeniably _gorgeous_. Luke really shouldn’t be itching to get a better look at it just on first sight, shouldn’t be itching to get on board and find out just how fast it goes, given no one should be able to find them here and he doesn’t even know who the pilot is.

Or any other people on board. Grogu _knows_ who it is, which gives Luke a certain suspicion, as does the fact that when he reaches out himself through the Force, he feels a blank spot.

Hm, not a blank spot. Not exactly. But more a place where his mind can’t quite go. Yet, just like the sole time he met this man before, that gap in the Force doesn’t feel – well, it doesn’t feel _bad_. Calm almost, which is perhaps misleading, given if it _is_ who Luke believes it to be then the man is quite possibly feeling anything but.

It’s all very strange.

“Steady,” He tells the class as such, even as he swallows and seeks to steady himself, finding his face tempted to stretch into a smile despite everything, simply from the sheer amount of pure _joy_ the child is exuding – and that’s Luke’s confirmation right there, isn’t it. “Grogu?”

“Abaa!” The child is on his feet even as Luke speaks, scuttling at full speed over the smooth flagstones composing the meditation square and down the corridor of fresh green trees that leads to the grassy area where the ship has just touched down and the ramp is opening up.

The Mandalorian that jumps down is indeed the Mandalorian Luke expects, the man dropping down to his knees in the soft grass and holding out his arms as the child flings himself into them, squealing happily. Giving them a moment, Luke turns his attention onto the other apprentices clustered around his legs as they peek over at the pair, some shy and some almost awestruck perhaps by a combination of the ship and the armour, and all of them immensely curious, answering the babble of questions they have about the new arrival as best he can – yes, Grogu knows the man; no, he’s not here to take anyone away; yes, they can have a small break from their lesson; yes, the man is welcome.

“I’m glad to hear it,” The Mandalorian has approached when Luke next looks up, standing under the last of the trees next to the meditation square, Grogu perched delightedly in his arms. The man’s armour looks a little different in a way that Luke doesn’t think is simply down to his memory failing him, and the helmet is different too, some colours there and wonderful embroidery on the rich fabric of the clothing he’s wearing beneath. And his stance is better, he’s clearly no longer only half-conscious and stunned by shock and grief and the fact Luke was _taking his son away from him_ , and oh hell –

“I’m sorry,” Luke finds himself blurting, which isn’t what he’d been planning to say at all, “You did get the messages, didn’t you?”

If else, how had the man found him.

“Messages?” The helmet tips to one side. Luke has to catch himself from staring much like the gaggle of children holding onto his robes, small hands waving up at their peer or inching towards that armour as if tempted to touch.

“Monwin, look with your eyes not your fingers,” Luke guides one child’s hand gently down before it makes contact with the fur cloak.

“Soft,” Is her mumble.

“She can touch,” The Mandalorian surprises Luke a little, stooping down to carefully place Grogu on his feet next to his peers and then taking the cloak off, swinging it around his son’s shoulders so the child is nearly lost within it. The chortles of laughter that come from under the thick material are infectious enough that the other kids relax, letting go of Luke to dive under it – all except for Monwin, who brushes the fur shyly with her fingers and gives the man a little smile in gratitude, to which he nods in return.

“I couldn’t find you,” Luke says, more touched by this simple kindness than perhaps he should be. He’s aware of his brow wrinkling earnestly, however he might try to control it and put back on his ‘teacher face’ – the kids are fully occupied with the game breaking out under the cloak anyway, judging by the amount of giggling, “I _am_ sorry, I couldn’t stop to explain on collecting Grogu; there was too much at risk. But I searched for you after, as soon as Grogu had settled – for the Mandalorian who defeated Moff Gideon. I made the mistake of thinking you’d be easy to find. That I could tell you the location of the temple when there weren’t others to overhear.”

“You couldn’t just have – inserted the information into my mind?” There’s a little suspicion there, perhaps, or doubt, the Mandalorian looking up from the group of children to potentially frown at Luke’s face. He’s still that gap in the Force, still as unreadable as he has been back when Luke had found he’d had to go by the man’s expression, and that alone had been enough to squeeze Luke’s heart so much he almost hadn’t been able to speak.

“I wouldn’t have done even if I could,” He can only be grateful he’s being allowed this chance now to explain, “But I was able to trace you as far as Marshal Dune on Nevarro and had one of my droids leave a message with her, and she put me in touch through them with Boba Fett on Tatooine.” Now that had been quite some conversations. Cara Dune had told him off quite thoroughly – almost as thoroughly as Leia had, when she’d learned that Luke had judged it better to leave and only later explain – in addition to Fett’s immense disapproval, and both had rather convincingly threatened to make Luke’s life a misery if he ever did anything to upset the Mandalorian any further or in any way whatsoever to harm the child.

As appalling as it had been to think that they felt this necessary – and as appalling as it had been to learn from the child himself what he’d been through – it was nonetheless heartening to know that Grogu had people who cared so much about him.

No one more than this man, though.

“I didn’t receive any messages,” The Mandalorian turns his head away for a moment, but it doesn’t seem to be in irritation or anger. Instead he’s simply looking back down at his son, as Grogu holds the cloak up for his father to take, before scampering after his friends to play in the square, “I’ve had some business to deal with.”

“How did you find us then?” Luke folds his hands into his sleeves. He gets the helmet swivelling back again to give him a stare for this.

“I used to be a bounty hunter. Tracking people down is easy.”

“Oh,” Okay, that’s – potentially not good. Because if this man could find them despite all the effort Luke made to keep the location of the temple unknown, then –

“There aren’t any more tracking fobs,” As if sensing Luke’s racing mind, the Mandalorian raises a gloved hand. His shoulders remain relaxed though and a notable steadiness to his stance, a very understandable change from the last and only time they previously met. “I’ve seen to it.”

“You’ve – How?” Just like the children earlier, Luke is now abruptly brimming with questions.

“Did you think I’d let my son remain with you if it wasn’t safe?” He gets a question back in return. Almost a touch of humour – or something perhaps a little darker than humour – in the other man’s voice through the modulator for a moment, before it fades, “I’ve dealt with the threat from the remnant of the former Empire as well. Grogu will be safe here.”

This last part isn’t directed towards Luke, but the happily playing child.

“Do you want to spend some more time with him?” Luke asks even as breathes through a bolt of regret at not having dealt with that threat himself; that he had been so intent on getting Grogu safely to the sanctuary of the temple and as far away from the threat Moff Gideon presented even in binders that he hadn’t stopped to offer help beyond the defeat of the Dark Troopers – something else Leia had taken him quite deservedly to task for.

“He’s wearing booties,” The Mandalorian says unexpectedly instead of an answer, sounding a little taken aback by it, although Luke still can’t properly read him. The Force swirling around that helmet, that armour, but not going no further in. That gap isn’t because of them though, Luke is certain; the man is possibly just naturally and unconsciously resistant, although this is a word Luke isn’t sure he wants to use for it.

There’s still that sense of calm, though. Of completion, almost. Gone as soon as Luke tries to hone in on it, only to seep back when he focuses elsewhere. It keeps the smile on his lips and has his heart feeling lighter in a way it hasn’t in years.

“Um – yes,” Luke had made them as he does much of the children’s clothes, with no little input from them, “He wasn’t sure he wanted to at first, which was fine, but then I found material with frogs on it.”

“I can see,” That’s either bafflement or amusement, “He never would with me. And the pendant?” As Grogu claps his hands before levitating a handful of smooth round pebbles as part of the game he and his friends are playing, one eye on his father, the symbol on the necklace visible at the collar of his robes. “He’s permitted to wear it?”

“Of course,” Given what Luke knows of the Jedi of old and their training methods, he can’t say he’s surprised by this enquiry, “It reminds him of you.” Hearing an indrawn breath through the helmet, he smiles a little to soften it, “Like his robes, you see?”

They look much like the clothes Grogu was wearing on parting with the Mandalorian, the style one Luke quickly came to realise the child felt comfortable in.

“I do,” The Mandalorian’s voice is a little husky. Luke remembers him taking the helmet off to say goodbye to his son, remembers the pain he felt almost guilty witnessing, even as little as he understood back then.

“I also want to apologise for not realising back then,” He starts, “Marshal Dune was quite insistent about letting me know.” Fett too, really. “I shouldn’t have seen –”

He gets a gloved hand held up to stop him.

“It’s fine,” The Mandalorian continues when Luke doesn’t expect him to, “Well. It wasn’t fine. But you didn’t know. And I chose to do it, and I’ll probably choose to do it again.”

“For Grogu,” Luke completes a little softy, and gets a nod.

“I can spend more time with him?” The weight of the man’s full attention is suddenly on him, “How long?”

“While we have a routine, what I teach isn’t completely inflexible,” This is something Luke has been wondering about in honestly, “I was thinking of contacting all the children’s families and caretakers, and attempting to arrange some sort of open day.”

“You – would do that?” The man radiates enough quiet intensity it sets Luke’s heart inexplicably speeding. He wonders what expression the Mandalorian is making under the helmet, what colour his eyes are. He was too far away before; he didn’t see.

The sight of them wasn’t for him anyway.

“Yes,” Luke tips his head even as he chides himself internally, “Perhaps you too have heard of how young Jedi used to be trained?”

The density of the loaded silence that follows from the man is lightened only by the backdrop of the children’s happy cries.

“You are training them differently,” The Mandalorian eventually says, as Grogu spins around giddly, laughing so much he’s stumbling, straight into the waiting hands of his smiling friends.

Luke simply nods.

“Then perhaps I can help,” He doesn’t expect this either, the Mandalorian sounding a little gruff, as if he’s expecting to be turned down, “My ship is bigger than your X-wing.”

“Undoubtedly,” Unable to quite hide his eagerness or his smile, Luke’s eyes flicker over to it all over again, although he manages to bite down on everything else he could say – or ask – about it.

“It could be used to transport the little ones in the future, when they go to visit their loved ones in between training,” That the Mandalorian will be piloting goes unsaid, his son at his side. His tone almost a little defiant now – yes, he’s not expecting Luke to agree.

“Would you really –?” Luke however feels abruptly younger than his years, breathless at being delivered the solution to another conundrum he had been pondering, “If it isn’t inconvenient, that would be a real kindness. Yes. Please.”

A little breathless just because of the man standing in front of him too, but he’s trying his best not to think about that.

“There would be room for one more,” The Mandalorian continues a bit slowly, much like he hadn’t planned to say as much, but both words and implication are deliberate nonetheless, “I imagine they would need to be supervised by their teacher.”

“You – are you sure?” Right about now Leia would probably start giving Luke a certain look that means he’s blushing. He can certainly feel the heat of enthusiasm in his cheeks. The heat of attraction, too.

“I’m sure,” Is the reply.

Grogu chooses then to come barrelling over to both of them at this point, chattering merrily at the top of his voice, stopping at the very last moment before crashing into Luke’s knees. Lifting his arms to be held. Glancing at the child’s father, Luke obliges, hyperaware of the fact the Mandalorian watches this intently.

“Tired out now?” Luke murmurs to the little one, as Grogu buries his face briefly in Luke’s neck, “We’ll have lunch shortly.” He glances at the other man, “You’re welcome to stay. To eat or just – as long as you like.”

“Buu,” Cooing, Grogu draws himself back up in order to reach out for his father with one hand, then other one determinedly clamped in Luke’s robes, so the two men must step closer together, “Baba.”

It doesn’t matter that Luke can’t sense him in the Force; the smile in the Mandalorian’s voice as the tiny fingers wrap around one of his is so clear and warm he might as well not be using the modulator.

“Grogu,” He addresses his son and then raises his head to include Luke as well, “I’ll stay.”


End file.
